


Clipped Wings

by Dellessa



Series: A Gilded Cage [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus vented hard, scared despite himself. The final battle had not gone well, so many had fallen about him. Countless friends and comrades. He could see their sightless optics every time he offlined his optics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clipped Wings

_  
Rodimus vented hard, scared despite himself. The final battle had not gone well, so many had fallen about him. Countless friends and comrades. He could see their sightless optics every time he offlined his optics._

_It hurt as much as the throbbing ache in his spark. It felt as though Megatron had damaged something when he ripped the Matrix from Rodimus’ chest. His spark pulsed hard, phantom pain rolling across his sensornet as if it was happening all over again._

_Rodimus looked at the doorway off his prison and wondered how long Megatron would keep him here before he finally ended it. He had pounded at the door for joors, until he was exhausted and spent. Until he was running on fumes._

_The last battle flashed through his processor, looping through over and over in playback. Arcee fell to the ground, a gaping hole where once her spark had been. Springer ran after and was brought down by a hail of plasma fire. Rodimus had froze, shock over-riding his good sense as he watched his two best friends fall._

_The tide of battle turned towards the Decepticons. Rodimus watched as Ultra Magnus fell beneath a pile of Cons. The mechs were hard pressed to restrain the warrior, but the finally did, ripping his hammer from his still hands. Rodimus saw little else as Megatron backhanded him and the world went blissfully dark. As the world faded away he prayed to Primus that this was the end. He was so tired._

_The memory flus stopped as suddenly as it started leaving Rodimus disoriented. He swayed where he stood, and stared dumbly at the door as it opened. Rodimus stumbled back, looking up at the big purple mech that loomed over him, single red optic fix on Rodimus._

_“Lord Megatron has some use for you, however unworthy you are,” Shockwave said. It made Rodimus’ ventilations stutter._

_“I’d rather offline,” Rodimus said, a ghost of his former bravado._

_Shockwave grabbed his arm undeterred by Rodimus’ struggle. “Your desires are irrelevant.” The purple mech dragged Rodimus through the hallway, finally pushing him through a large doorway, ignoring the startled squeak from the red mech._

_Smaller mechs pulled Rodimus from Shockwave’s grip as soon as the door closed. Despite his protests he was pulled to a medical berth, and strapped down. He screamed as he felt Shockwave jack into his medical port, ripping away at his firewalls as if they were as ephemeral as cobwebs. Shockwave’s presence was invasive, he was everywhere and the code that followed in his wake burrowed deep into Rodimus’ systems leaving him reeling._

OoOoOoOo

The room swam, swirling about as if he was deep within a solvent pool. Everything appeared distorted, and his frame felt as though it was on fire. His spark ached, clenching behind his chest plates needily, echoing the ache in his valve. He groaned, loudly, startling himself.

He was back in the room that Shockwave had taken him from. The door still barred his way, and his spark hurt. It ached, and felt oddly heavy. He rubbed his chestplates trying to ease the ache. 

He wondered when Megatron would end it. Surely he would get bored soon enough. Rodimus hoped so. He missed Arcee and Springer. He even missed Magnus. He wished he could join them in the Well.

OoOoOoOo

They had drugged him again. Rodimus figured that it was in the energon that they gave him. He just didn’t have it in him to starve himself, so he drank the energon. The world had gone blurry, than black.

It came back in bits. Blurred images of Megatron hovering over him. Charge roaring through his system. A nearly painful stretch of his valve. Voices murmured around him. One his meta labeled as Shockwave, but he could make no sense of what the mech was saying. 

He tried to push Megatron away, but his limbs would not respond. The heat chasing through his systems chased all thoughts away, and left him whimpering feebly. The Warlord moved above him, in him, and there was nothing to Rodimus could to to stop the mech. He shouted inside, but it never left his vocalizer. That seemed just as frozen as the rest of him. 

Megatron seemed to slow and then, to paw at his chestplates until they finally slid away. Megatron’s brightred spark pressed against Rodimus own gold spark, engulfing it. A scream did rip through his vocalizer then, long, high and seemingly unending. The merge seemed to last for vorns for Rodimus, and when it finally ended the world faded to black again. Blissful darkness that was nothing short of a relief.

OoOoOoOo

When he woke up again the world was clear to his optics and far too real. He was still strapped to the berth, and seemingly clean. His spark clenched when he noticed Shockwave moving towards him, rolling an energon drip.

“Good to see you are back to the land of the living. I am happy to say that the procedure worked, you are now carrying Lord Megatron’s heir. You should be proud of your contribution to the empire. We will, however keep you here until he can be extracted. We are not foolish enough to trust you with the future of the empire, not with how sloppily you ran your own faction.” 

Rodimus could only stare at the mech in horror.


End file.
